


Waiting To Happen

by PepperRiley



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining, potential smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperRiley/pseuds/PepperRiley
Summary: Billy Hargrove was a bad decision waiting to happen. He had a long list of flaws and a short fuse that ensured that list kept growing. He was aggressive, dangerous, and nearly always a word away from unglued. He hit his feelings, drank his sorrows, and fucked his pain away.And you weren’t sure you could help yourself.





	1. Happy Birthday

      Billy Hargrove was a bad decision waiting to happen. He had a long list of flaws and a short fuse that ensured that list kept growing. He was aggressive, dangerous, and nearly always a word away from unglued. He hit his feelings, drank his sorrows, and fucked his pain away.  
  
      And you weren’t sure you could help yourself.  
  


      Your family had moved from Seattle to Hawkins the final semester before your graduation for your father’s new job. Now you were spending your eighteenth birthday in a shithole town without your friends. Now you were going to graduate with people you didn’t know.  
  
      You heard through the grapevine that Tina’s was the place to be if you wanted to be anybody and you were going to be a somebody. If you had to be stuck in Hawkins, you weren’t going to waste your time being a wallflower.  
  
      Tina was throwing a ‘Welcome Back, Idiots!’ party to celebrate the final semester for the Seniors. That included you and it also happened to fall on your birthday, January 4th, 1986. You were a Capricorn and you were going to work as hard as your sign was one to do. But what you were working at was your reputation.  
  
      You turned up at the party, ready to push back at anyone that took a run at you. You had no reason to be this angry, but it was misplaced, it was raw, and it needed an outlet. That’s when Billy noticed you. He saw you aggressively shoulder past Jonathan Byers for no other reason than he was in your way. He saw you tell Nancy Wheeler to  _walk away_  when she puffed herself up and he saw you move to the kitchen and chug two drinks before even bothering to greet anyone.  
  
      No one knew you; class wasn’t even starting until next week. You were an enigma. And you were the only person in the room angrier than Billy Hargrove.  
  
      He took a sip of his drink and travelled across the room to you, instantly drawn in by your fire.  
  
      “Hey.” He tapped his drink against your own.  
  
      You smiled, ready to dress him down with a single word if he so much as stepped a toe out of line, but he was disarmingly attractive. “Hey.”  
  
      “Never seen you around before.” He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket, offering one to you. You accepted and he lit yours before lighting his own.  
  
      “I’m new.”  
  
      “And you already don’t like Byers.”  
  
      You looked across the room. “Who?”  
  
      “Exactly.” He extended his hand. “I’m Billy.” You accepted and he kissed the back of it.  
   
      “I’m unimpressed,” you lied.  
  
      He laughed. “Sure you are, Princess.”  
  
      You told him your name and he repeated it, chewing on it, really letting it marinate. “I like that,” he purred.  
  
      You softened immediately. This was the first person to talk to you despite the walls you’d firmly thrown up around your personality, your hopes, and your heart.  
  
      He noticed. “So, you go to Hawkins?”  
  
      “Come Monday, I will be.”  
  
      He picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter. You let him, enjoying the attention. He was too handsome to deny how much you liked that his hands had slid under your t-shirt as he gripped into your sides. His hands were big and rough, and you knew they were the type to misbehave. He leaned between your knees, smiling devilishly in your face. “Well, Princess, maybe I’ll see you around then?”  
  
      “Why, you got somewhere to be right now?” You blew smoke in his face and tossed your cigarette in the sink.  
  
      He held his smoke in his hand and licked his lips. “Your  _fuck you_  attitude suggested I do.”  
  
      A Senior, Travis Linden, came wandering up to Billy. “Hargrove, keg time.”  
  
      “Not right now,” he growled.  
  
      “Come on, Billy. Jake’s got you beat.”  
  
      Billy looked to you, his reputation on the line. You understood and you nodded. “Don’t want to be the loser of insignificant drinking games, now do you?”  
  
      He grunted. “Come watch and pretend you’re not impressed.”  
  
      “I’m not, but I’ll come anyway.”  
  
      He tossed you over his shoulder and carried you to the backyard, people shooting you looks as you went. For someone nobody knew, you’d already landed yourself on the arm of the most popular guy in school. You were a force to be reckoned with.  
  
      Billy set you down and you paid no attention as his friends inverted him. You thought the entire thing was silly, but once he came down, you did find the way beer dripped down his chin to be remarkably sexy.  
  
      Billy had beaten Jake’s record and he came back over to you, wiping his face on the back of his hand. “You need another drink?” he asked.  
  
      “I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.” You glanced around the party, taking note of everyone watching you, wondering about you.  
  
      Billy pressed a hand to your lower back and led you back into the kitchen. He passed you a cup of punch and asked, “What should we drink to?”  
  
      “It’s my birthday,” you offered.  
  
      “Is that so? Well, Happy Birthday, Princess.” He tapped his cup to yours once again and drank in your honour. You took a sip and that’s when everything hit you. You were celebrating a milestone at a party with strangers in a place you had no love for. Anger and sadness trickled up your throat as you tried to wash it down with punch that was too strong, too sweet, and not enough to help you forget. A tear nearly betrayed you, but you threw your head back, finishing the drink in one gulp, and you covertly wiped your cheek.  
  
      But Billy had noticed.  
  
      You set your cup on the counter and smiled at him. “Thanks.”  
  
      Billy recognized anger covering suffering and he knew not to push. If he asked, you’d leave or lash out. So instead, he’d distract. “Did you get to have any cake?”  
  
      You thought about the cake your parents had gotten you and how it had meant nothing to you with no one around to celebrate. Your sister got to stay back in Washington, as she’d graduated last year and taken the opportunity to move into her own place. You’d begged to stay with her for your last semester, but your parents had refused. She wasn’t there when you blew out the candles. And your wish to wake up back home hadn’t come true.  
  
      “I didn’t.” You refused to accept the disappointment.  
  
      “Let’s go get you some, then,” Billy said, offering you his hand.  
  
      You knew he wanted to get in your pants, you knew he’d drank too much to drive, and you knew that you didn’t care. You needed a friend, so you slid your hand in his and left the party.  
  
  
      Billy parked his Camaro in a convenience store parking lot. He disappeared inside and left you with the soft hum of the stereo. He’d been listening to The Scorpions. You weren’t surprised.  
  
     Your eyes roamed around the car. There were endless cigarette butts in the ashtray and a few mixed tapes scattered on the backseat but other than that it was kept neat. Billy cared about his car, just as he cared about his appearance. If things looked good on the outside, maybe no one would pick up on the disaster inside. It’s why no one else opened the glove box, chock full of napkins, papers, and condoms. And it’s why Billy opened up to no one, chock full of sorrow, hurt, and confusion.   
  
      He sauntered back to the car, Twinkies in hand, and he slid back inside. He tore open the wrapper with his teeth and passed one to you, keeping the other for himself. “Sorry, this is all they had.”  
  
      The gesture was sweet, so you smiled sincerely as you accepted the spongy treat.   
  
      Billy chewed, asking between bites, “So, where you from?”  
  
      “Seattle.”  
  
      “West coast,” he sighed. “Fuck of a lot better than here.”  
  
      “You from here?”  
  
      “I’m offended you’d even suggest it.” He grinned. “California.”  
  
      “Figured as much. Cali boys hate to button up their shirts.”  
  
      He brayed. “You’re loving the view, so don’t give me that shit.”  
  
      He wasn’t wrong, so you shoved the Twinkie in your mouth before he got any ideas.  
  
      “Aren’t you Seattle chicks real moody?”  
  
      “Yes. And?” you challenged.  
  
      “Just checking.” He placed a hand on your knee and your heart summersaulted. He was handsome enough that you wanted him for your birthday present, but you weren’t going to make this mistake so easily. You steeled yourself and glanced at your watch. It was midnight.   
  
      “Shit, I gotta get home. Would you mind dropping me off?”  
  
      He moved his hand and turned the engine over. “Where to?”  
  
  
      Billy pulled up in front of your house and turned the car off. He looked to you. “So, I guess I’ll catch you on Monday.”  
      “Not if I can help it,” you teased.  
  
      He laughed and then without warning pulled you across the seat, crashing his lips against yours. You barely had time to think before you gave in and crawled into his lap, kissing him deep as his hands gripped into your thighs. He moved to your neck, aiming to leave his mark, and you leaned back, hitting the horn, startling both of you. He chuckled and you panicked.  
  
     “I gotta go before my parents come out here and kill me.” You scrambled out of the car and hurried up the lawn.  
  
      “Princess!” he called after you. “Happy Birthday!”


	2. People Will Talk

      Monday morning brought no relief. You were still daydreaming about Billy’s aggressive kiss while you tried to conceal the hickey he’d left on your neck. It was chilly enough that a turtleneck kept your secrets and your parent’s eyes off of it yesterday as they scolded you for missing curfew, but their parental guilt over the move held them back from punishing you. It was unlikely the same courtesy would have been afforded had they found Billy’s teeth marks etched into your throat.  
  
      You let your fingers drift over the bruise and you told yourself to stay away from trouble. No matter how good trouble looked in plunging necklines and tight denim.  
  


      Arriving in class, you were relieved to find first period would be Billy free. You were less excited noticing everyone’s haughty looks and giggles as you took a seat in a back corner desk.  
  
      Tina moved desks to sit in front of you. She turned and whispered, “Slut,” giving you a playful wink, hoping for a reaction.  
  
      You couldn’t tell if she wanted to fight or befriend, so you threw it back at her. “Nice to meet you, Slut.”  
  
      She laughed. She was a friend. “No, idiot. Did you sleep with Hargrove on Saturday?”  
  
      You scowled, offended by the accusation. “No.”  
  
      “That’s too bad,” she sighed. “Then Billy’s a liar and you’re boring.”  
  
      Your cheeks flushed with rage. “Did he say I slept with him?”  
  
      “New girls are ten points,” Tina said it as casually as one might order a cup of coffee.  
  
      Your eyes darted around the room, people were whispering about you, snickering. Billy Hargrove was going to die.  
  
      “Don’t worry, he said you were really good.” Tina smiled and then turned her attention to the front.  
  
      You sat with your anger, feeling exposed and embarrassed as everyone’s eyes condemned you. The only person in the room looking at you with any sympathy was Nancy Wheeler and she didn’t even like you. Your false misdeeds may not have been spray painted for the world to see, but the word had travelled just as quickly. Boys could be so cruel.   
  
  
      You refused to crumble as you moved between periods to your locker. That’s when you spotted him, six lockers down, laughing with the boy you remembered as Travis. You could go over there and scream in his face, adamantly denying what had happened, but as his eyes locked on yours, you decided he wasn’t worth it. You smiled, blew him a kiss, and shut your locker, turning the opposite direction of his bewilderment.  
  
      Your dismissal worked like a charm and he called after you, catching up with you in three strides. “Hey, Princess, where you off to?”  
  
      “Class,” you said, coolly.  
  
      “I’ll walk with you.”  
  
      “People will talk.”  
  
      “They already are.” He slung an arm around you.  
  
      “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.” You shrugged him off.  
  
      “They twisted my words, Sweetheart.” He ran a hand up your side, gripping your waist.   
  
      “I’m going to twist your neck if you don’t get your hands off of me, Hargrove.”  
  
      He frowned. “I can set ‘em straight then, if you’d like.”  
  
      You stopped, steering him up against a row of lockers. “Maybe that’s what you should have done in the first place. Or did you need the points that badly?”  
  
      He glared, staring down at you, but when your hateful expression didn’t relent, he gave in. “Look, I’m sorry, alright?”  
  
      “You sure are.” You gripped his chin painfully tight, curling your fingers into his face. “Because I’m a wildcat in bed and now you’ll never know.”  
  
      Billy would have been unhinged if he hadn’t been so turned on.  
  
      You let go of his chin, tapped his cheek, smiled sweetly, and walked away.  
  
      Billy watched after you, running his tongue along his teeth and shaking his head. “Fuck,” he muttered before dragging himself off to class.  
  
  
      At lunch the sideways glances and wolf whistles continued. You did your damndest to remain unfazed.  
  
      Tina noticed you and waved you over. You were somebody now so you made your way across the lunchroom, ready to claim your seat at the head table.   
  
      Tina introduced you to her friends, Amanda and Jamie, who were vibrating with excitement to be sitting with today’s hottest gossip.  
  
      “How big is it?” Jamie asked, snapping her bubble gum.  
  
      “I didn’t sleep with him,” you tried to explain.  
  
      “One of the senior girls from last year slept with him and said it was big. Not, like, Steve Harrington big, but still  _big_.” Amanda added.  
  
      “Who?”   
  
      “Not important.” Amanda waved a hand dismissively. “So, like, are you going to find out?” she pressed.  
  
      “No, he’s an asshole.”  
  
      “Speak of the devil.” Jamie nodded past you.  
  
      You turned to find Billy stalking towards you. He pulled up a chair next to you and rested a hand on your thigh. “Ladies. Princess. Or should I say Wildcat?” He winked.  
  
      “You should say ‘goodbye’.” You picked his hand up and dropped it back in his lap.  
  
      He licked his lips. “You’re real funny. I think that’s what I like best about you.”  
  
      You didn’t respond, instead you focused on your pudding cup, licking the spoon slowly to tease him. The girls were teetering on the edge of their seats, ready to topple off into dramatic bliss. Billy heard their chairs creaking, feeling their eyes all over him, as they basked in the glory of watching him twist and fail. His face shifted between fury and fascination. You lifted your gaze to his, challenging him.  
  
      Billy loved being in the spotlight, but he didn’t like it so much when it held the possibility of humiliation. Typically, he craved any scrap of attention, which was why he acted out; negative attention was better than none at all. But this had backfired. You weren’t playing the game the way he’d expected. He hoped you’d have been disarmed by his good looks and his social standing. He thought you’d come storming up to him, making yourself look suspicious and desperate. Then he could ignore you until you were begging for his attention, making it much easier for him to sweep in, half-heartedly apologize, and get in your pants. But you’d met plenty of Billies and you’d made that mistake back in Seattle. You weren’t going to let some handsome time bomb make a fool out of you, least of all, on your first day. He had no idea who he was up against.   
  
      He turned to his audience. “Ok, here’s the thing, we didn’t sleep together.”  
  
      They twittered over his defeated confession.  
  
      He continued, looking to you. “But you wanted to.”  
  
      “Maybe.” You shrugged. “Guess now you’ll never find out.”  
  
      He grabbed your chin, much more delicately than you’d held his, and he tilted your head, letting his thumb gently brush the spot where he’d marked you. You shivered under his touch. You may have won the battle, but as the pad of his thumb drew tiny circles on your throat, you were afraid you’d lose the war.  
  
      “You should never say  _never_ , Wildcat.” He leaned in and left a soft kiss on your hickey.  
  
      Tina, Amanda, and Jamie wanted to sell tickets to this show, but they were too caught up in their front row seats, hoping the two of you would go at it right there, whether it was a fuck or a fight.   
  
      He pulled back, his thumb now ghosting your lips, and he smiled. “Well, I’ll let you ladies enjoy the rest of your lunch.” With that he got up and left the lunchroom.  
  
      “Jesus Christ, that was hot.” Tina finally squeaked after he’d disappeared from view.   
  
      “Can you please sleep with him?” Jamie begged.  
  
  
      Class ended and Billy slunk off to his car to drown today’s sorrows in a shot or three of whiskey before heading home to walk on eggshells around his father. He popped open his glove box, found his flask, and imbibed. Straight whiskey burned the entire way down, a sensation that comforted Billy through most days. The fire brought numbness. The numbness got him through the night.  
      He knew he’d left you wanting more, but he’d left just as much of that mutual pining fading slowly on your neck. He was captivated by you and he was wrestling with his regret.   
  
      Travis had asked him if he  _nailed the new chick_ this morning and Billy couldn’t help himself. He’d said you were a  _wild ride_ , but left out the detail that he hadn’t weaseled his way into your panties. Mouths ran wild and Billy revelled in the back patting, ego stroking, and envious glances from the guys. Now, as he continued to drink alone, feeling like an asshole, he wished he wouldn’t have said anything. He still wanted to bed you, but instead of a smile and a well-placed compliment, he’d have to sincerely apologize and win you over from scratch. Billy hated apologizing. Billy hated being vulnerable.  
  
      Lighting a smoke, he noticed the Twinkie wrapper on his floor. He must have missed it the other night. He picked it up and let himself want.  
  
      He thought about you shoving past Byers, about you masking your tears with a drink, and about you pretending to be so goddamn hard. He knew what it was like to want someone to notice, but to want to keep everyone at arm’s length. Now he’d gone and made your shitty time worse by behaving exactly like the type of person you’d meant to avoid.  
  
      He crumpled the wrapper and tossed it out the window just as you happened to be walking past his car, chatting with Tina.  
  
      He tapped the horn lightly, startling you, and he laughed as you flipped him the bird.  
  
      “Wildcat, get in. I’ll drive you home,” he called out the window as you continued on.  
  
      You shot him a look. “No thanks.”  
  
      “Come on. I’ll even keep my hands to myself,” he persisted.  
  
      “Well, then what good are you?” you goaded.  
  
      Tina started shoving you towards the car, whispering, “Go with him, for fuck’s sake.”  
  
      Billy bit his lip, he couldn’t believe Tina was going to push you all the way in. He leaned across the seat and popped open the passenger side. It was two against one and you relented.   
  
      Tina slammed the door before you had a chance to get out and she leaned down, smiling like an idiot from the other side of the window. “You crazy kids have fun!” She waved and waited for Billy to start the car and pull away before abandoning her post.  
  
      You made a mental note to strangle her tomorrow morning.  
  
      Billy passed you his flask. “Want a drink?”  
  
      It was three-thirty on a Monday afternoon, you were still stuck in this shithole town, everyone thought the guy next to you had put his dick in you, and the closest thing you had to a friend just strong-armed you into his car. You finished the rest in one gulp.  
  
      Billy glanced at you. “Listen, i’m sorry about today.”  
  
      “You’re only sorry because you want me to sleep with you.”  
  
      “I mean, that’s part of it, but I can be sorry for more than one reason,” he admitted.  
  
      “I don’t accept your apology, Billy.”  
  
      “Fine. I’m still sorry, though.” What you didn’t know about Billy was how little he’d ever said  _sorry_ , but how could you? He’d said it to you a handful of times already today. And he’d say it to you too many times in the coming weeks. He’d say it until it’d lost all meaning. But every time he’d pray it would be enough. He’d pray he could be enough.  
  
      Neither of you knew this as he passed you a cigarette and the two of you shared a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive home.


	3. Nobody Tells Me What To Do

            Billy pulled up in front of your house, looking past you to take it in in the daylight. It was quaint and inviting. It was the exact opposite of you.

            “Well, Wildcat, here we are.”

            You could hear the suggestion in Billy’s voice and you decided to bite. Your parents weren’t home and you hated to drink alone. “Wanna come in?”

            He grinned, making no effort to disguise the lust playing at his mouth. “Sure do.”

            He turned off the car, twirled his keys around his finger, and shoved them in his pocket. You didn’t wait for him as you made your journey across the lawn to your front door.

            Billy followed you into the foyer and glanced around, happy to be anywhere other than home. Happy to be near you.

            The two of you moved to the kitchen.

            “Want something to drink?”

            “That’d be great.” He draped his jacket over the back of a chair and pulled up a seat at the kitchen table, enjoying the calming silence of your home.

            You dug around the fridge, grabbing a can of Coke. He watched you climb up onto the counter and sneak into the cupboard above the stove. You pulled out a bottle of whiskey and hopped down. You poured two drinks and slid one in front of Billy as you took a seat beside him.

            “Cheers.” You clinked your glass with his and knocked it back.

            Billy frowned. “You ok?” he asked, taking a sip.

            “I’ve been better,” you admitted, moving back to the counter to pour yourself another.

            Billy was far from a shoulder to cry on, but that didn’t stop him from coming up behind you and rubbing a hand down your back. “I shouldn’t have said anything about sleeping with you.”

            Your face went hot. You concentrated on the taste of your drink, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions Billy was stirring in your belly. Your anger was battling his charm, while your lust was strangling your common sense. Billy wasn’t a friend, but you wanted to lean back against him and be held. You wanted someone to comfort you, but you didn’t want them to know. You finished your drink, praying it would be the safe place to land you were seeking. Instead it encouraged your fury and resurrected your walls.

            “You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” you hissed, moving to pour another, and elbowing him away from you.

            Billy grabbed the bottle out of your hands. “I think you’ve had enough for now.”

            “Fuck you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. You refused to turn around; he didn’t deserve to see you cry.

            Billy suddenly felt very at home, watching someone drink their feelings, and waiting for the blow. He danced between running and staying, but you weren’t his father and you needed someone, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

            You wiped your face, turned, and moved to take the bottle from his grip. Before you could get a hand around it, he pulled you to his chest and held you. “I know you had a bad first day, but it’s over.”

            He set the bottle on the counter and wrapped his other arm around you, engulfing you in a hug.

            He smelled so good and he felt even better. You meant to step back, but instead you settled against him, choosing not to fight how badly you craved the closeness. You let your hands drift up his back and you balled his shirt in your hands as he held you tight. A hand glided up your back and he lightly stroked your hair while you nestled your face against his bare chest.

            He spoke low, “If anyone talks shit about you tomorrow, I’ll knock their fucking lights out, ok?”

            “Guess you’ll have to punch yourself in the face,” you mumbled against him.

            He laughed. “Yeah, guess so. But how about you cut the shit and forgive me already?”

            He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and gently swayed with you. You were melting and wished so badly that you weren’t. Billy was bad news and you didn’t even know the half of it.

            “You don’t deserve it.”

            He held you at arm’s length and looked down at you. “I know, but I think you’ve proven your point, so be a good sport and say ‘Billy, I forgive you.’”

            “Nobody tells me what to do, Billy,” you protested.

            “Couldn’t tell, Wildcat. You seem so agreeable.” He drug his tongue across his teeth and reached past you. “How about this, you forgive me and I pour us another drink?”

            You shuffled back over to the table. “Fine, whatever.”

            He kept his promise and brought you a drink. You swirled it around your glass and wondered if Billy was the best thing Hawkins had to offer. Certainly he had to be the most handsome. But was drinking your sorrows away with the boy that humiliated you the best you could hope for in this shitty little town?

            He said your name and you snapped your head up. He was sitting beside you, studying you. “Maybe I should take you out this weekend, yeah?”

            You gave him a half-hearted smile. “So you can seal the deal?”

            “No, stop being an asshole,” he took a swig, “I wanna take you out because I want to get to know you.”

            You took a moment to drink him in: his mischievous lips, his glistening blue eyes that held back more secrets than you were sure you’d ever discover, and his impatient expression that was slowly fading as you studied him. He let a hopeful smile curl at the corner of his mouth, beckoning you to soften and say ‘yes’.

            “Alright, I’ll go on a date with you,” you sighed.

            “Jesus, don’t sound so excited,” Billy huffed.

            You rolled your eyes and wandered down the hallway to the living room. You didn’t care if Billy followed you or not, but you suspected he would.

            You turned on the TV and stretched out on the couch, spotting Billy out of the corner of your eye.

            He picked your legs up, sat down, and placed your feet in his lap. As the two of you watched MTV, he pulled off your shoes and socks and started to rub your feet. His hands were so big and strong and as they kneaded your skin, you felt yourself starting to exhale. His grip was firm, but his intentions were gentle.

            It was strange how easy this felt. How easy you melted into Billy’s touch and how comfortable the silences were. You’d known him for seventy-two hours, but he felt like your favourite sweater.

            Regardless, he was a wolf and every part of you was screaming for you to run.

            But nobody told you what to do.

            You sat up, your feet still in Billy’s lap, and you shuffled closer to who was soon to be your favourite mistake. He stopped rubbing your feet and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap. Neither of you said anything, but you took a beat to look at each other before your lips met. The way Billy kissed you knocked you on your ass and made a fool out of your boundaries.

            Billy growled into the kiss, possessively shoving his tongue in your mouth. He wanted you to know he was in charge. Although, he knew he wasn’t. He couldn’t get the upper hand with you, so he hoped he could fuck you into submission. If he made you howl his name, you wouldn’t want to whisper anyone else’s.

            Billy gripped you tight as you straddled him. He had one hand laced in your hair, cradling the back of you head, while the other slid up the back of your shirt to feel your soft skin.

            Your kisses became more frenzied and you found yourself grinding against him, feeling his erection against your core.

            He unclasped your bra with one hand and slid his hand to your chest to squeeze your breasts.

            He tugged your shirt over your head, taking your bra with it, and he tossed it across the room. He pushed you down and climbed on top of you, taking one of your breasts in his mouth. He let out a contented purr as he teased your nipples with his tongue.

            Billy kissed his way down your body, stopping to bite and suck, as he travelled towards the waist of your jeans. He tugged at them with his teeth while you panted in anticipation.

            That’s when you heard the car door slam.

            “Fuck! My mom!” you shouted, wriggling to get up.

            Billy shot up and you scrambled for your shirt, tugging it on, and shoving your bra in your pocket.

            “Go put the whiskey back!” You shoved Billy towards the kitchen.

            You found your backpack in the hall and dug out your binder and a textbook. You slid into a chair at the kitchen table, cracking the book, and pulling loose leaf from your binder, as Billy put the bottle back. He came and sat next to you, praying his boner would disappear before your mother walked through the door.

            You could hear your mom’s keys in the lock and looked to Billy. “We’ve been studying, alright?”

            He nodded.

            Your mother called to you when she walked in the door.

            “In here!” you answered, hoping you sounded as calm as possible, but Billy was running his hand up your thigh to tease you, not ready to give in so easily. You slapped his hand away and he chuckled.

            Your mother padded to the kitchen and was surprised to see you weren’t alone. “Oh, hello,” she said to Billy.

            “Hi.” His smile was sickeningly sweet. “I’m Billy.”

            “Hi, Billy.” Your mother looked to you, knowing concern painted on her face. “That must be your Camaro parked outside.”

            “Sure is,” he said as charmingly as possible.

            “Yeah, Billy and I were working on History, but he was just about to leave.” You bore your eyes into him, hoping he’d get the hint.

            “That’s right, I gotta get home for dinner.” He stood, pulling on his jacket, and he smiled at your mom once more. “You have a really lovely home.”

            “Thank you,” your mom said, looking past him to you. Your mom wasn’t a fool and she already didn’t like Billy.

            He nodded to you. “I’ll catch you in class tomorrow. Thanks for your help.”

            “Sure thing, have a good one.” You avoided your mom’s suspicious gaze and stared at a random page in your book.

            Your mother waited to hear Billy close the front door before she clucked at you.

            You lifted your eyes to meet hers. “What?” you challenged.

            She leaned over your shoulder, looking at your work. “When I study History I usually don’t bring my Math textbook.”

            You said nothing, hoping she’d drop it.

            She wandered over to the fridge, looking to double down on the last word. “Boys like that are nothing but trouble.”

            She wasn’t wrong.

            “You’d stay away from him if you knew what was good for you.”

            Sounded an awful lot like she was telling you what to do.

 


End file.
